


Saiyuki: Shambala

by Small Fortunes (SmallFortunes)



Category: Saiyuki (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27974840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallFortunes/pseuds/Small%20Fortunes
Summary: Join Priest Genjo Sanzo and his companions, Son Goku, Sha Gojyo and Cho Hakkai in a brand new chapter as they travel ever westward on a holy mission to quell the demon up-rising that plagues Shangri-La.To celebrate Saiyuki’s 20 Year Anniversary, Small Fortunesproudly presents an all-new Fan Novella set after the events of Saiyuki Reload. Join the boys on a powerful, original new story arc after a year on the road, that sees them crossing the Himalayas as they enter the magnificent land of Nepal en route to the far West.‘There is something dark and foreboding hidden in the recesses of the valley. Its omnipresent insidious aura travels through the land twisting and infecting all in its path. When the Sanzo party find a dying woman on the road, they make a choice to save a life amidst the threat of suffering and violence.Nothing could prepare them for what’s coming.This one act of mercy could be their final.’
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. The Woman on the Road

**Author's Note:**

> Saiyuki: Shambala is independently published as a not-for-profit fan-based digital e-book. Saiyuki characters and locations are the intellectual property of original author Kazuya Minekura. Copyright infringement is not intended.  
> Original characters, locations and concepts remain the intellectual property of Small Fortunes Independent Publishing. This short story is produced for entertainment purposes only.  
> Small Fortunes Independent Publishing would like to thank Kazuya Minekura, Monthly Zero Sum Comics, Random House Publishing and Madman Entertainment.  
> Questions and Comments: E-Mail: spidercraft@gmail.com  
> Original Graphics designed by Small Fortunes.

* * *

* * *

The distance shimmered under the midday heat haze.

Coalesce of excruciating humidity levels making the air even more unbearable after the purifying fury of the storm that pried apart the heavens the night before.

The tumultuous tempest ended its rampage in a petering shower before dissipating entirely.

Now the song of the cicadas could be heard in a powerful chorus rising above the tree line that spanned the formidable mountainous backdrop. The foothills of the Himalayas. The Sanzo party had been traveling steadily westward for just over a solid year on road. More than two thousand kilometres were put under their wheels, from Chang’an – The Temple of the Setting Sun, ensconced in the mountains of Southern China to their present route, deep in the wilderness of Western Nepal.

"Quite the Indian Summer we're having." Cho Hakkai's sardonically jovial tone voiced over the rumble of their Jeep's mighty engine. The cornerstone of patience. Even this heat was enough to have the young man strip back the buttons of his mandarin collar as beads of sweat rolled against the nape of his neck and down the length of his spine.

"And still so far from India..." The priest Genjo Sanzo mused in non-committal reply. His desire for another hit of nicotine had been beaten back into submission by the oppressive atmosphere. He too had shrugged irritably out of his robes an hour earlier. A quick glance in the side mirror revealed their back seat passengers, Son Goku and Sha Gojyo having sunken into their respective places, deflated and unenthusiastic. Shirts un-tucked, open at the collar, hair tied back and too drained by the heat to force even half-hearted banter between them. They’d been on the road since dawn and the soaring temperatures were nothing if not gruelling.

Some days were like this on the road.

The men carried themselves with a grim determination to reach their final destination and face down the source of this pandemic torment with a silent, righteous fury. Each one lost to a mire of their own murky thoughts. Caught in the coils of their private traumas. Determined to grow fresh skin over the myriad of scars that each demoralizing encounter thrust upon them.

Sometimes, whole days could pass with merely a few obligatory words being shared between them. So comfortable had they grown in each other's company. Or perhaps, so alone they felt in their unique miseries, that the shadow of each other's presence seemed all they had to live for at that moment.

This morning's drive had not roused their usual offhanded jeering. The endless refrains that were so unique to each of them had dried up with the last of the rain upon the rocky mountain road. Goku simply drank his water quietly, ignoring the endless coil of stinging hunger that lashed at his belly, even though he had consumed a mighty breakfast before the breaking dawn. Beside him, Gojyo also appeared withdrawn. His eyes unfocused upon the middle distance as he scanned the quickly passing forest line. A mixture of boredom and impotent futility lashed him into silence. He’d been idly toying with the butt of his last cigarette for quite a while now. Rolling it carelessly between the thumb and index finger of his left hand.

Every now and then, Sanzo shifted impatiently in his seat, wiping the sweat off his brow and gritting his teeth. On the cusp of wanting to say something, yet holding back, as though he thought better of it.

Hakkai's tired eyes shifted across the dashboard gauges. Occasionally scanning the distant road, occasionally looking back at his companions through the rearview mirror. He wasn’t particularly enthusiastic in garnering conversation either. His lower back ached and his shoulders were heavy. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately. None of them had.

Silence between them.

The steady rumble of the Jeep's engine.

Persistent song of the cicadas in their infinite crescendo.

And then it happened all at once.

All four men shifted simultaneously voicing their complaints so as their words poured out over each other's in a messy overlapping cacophony. Neither could make head nor tail of what the other was saying.

"Okay! OKAY! _One_... at a damn _time_!" Sanzo snapped at last. Dominating the clamorous voices into silence. Weary, the three other men were reluctant to rejoin. Sudden uncomfortable stillness between them.

"Hakkai!" The priest conceded, putting their driver on the spot.

"Guys... This heat is fucking insane. We shouldn't be out in this! I was just trying to say we should pull over and wait it out in the shade. At least for a few hours before trying to make it for the next town tonight."

"God, yes, anything is better than this!" Gojyo exclaimed, raking his hands across his face in sheer desperation.

"Please, Sanzo, can we pull over for a bit?! I'm dyin' here!" Came Goku's weakened plea. Hakkai's reasoning met with little resistance. The priest nodded in the affirmative, sinking back into his seat tiredly.

"Fine. Hakkai, try pull off road and get us into the shade for a while. As much as I hate burning daylight, I hate midday travel even more."

Contented grunts of gratitude all round. Perhaps if their Jeep had a top and air conditioning it wouldn’t have been such of an issue. But here, exposed to the elements as they all were in the midst of a blazing Nepalese summer - Well, they conceded to their limits and presented their gratitude where applicable. Were it not for Hakuryuu, they’d be hiking to India on foot.

"Hakkai, do you know if there's any water around here so we can swim?" Goku asked, edging forward out of his seat and leaning his forehead tiredly against the back of the driver’s headrest.

"The monkey's onto something." Came Gojyo's rejoinder.

"Uh - I didn't see anything immediately on the map, but we'll see if we can find something when we park.” Hakkai replied.

So much can happen in a single moment.

Hakkai had only taken his eyes off the road for a second to answer his friends.

A second was all it took.

Sanzo jolted violently, his vice-like grip on Hakkai’s forearm, his pupils constricting in fear as he shouted,

"Hakkai- **_WATCH OUT_**!"

"SHIT!"

All four men grunted; lurching forcibly in their seats with barely a moment to brace themselves. Arms flailed as Hakkai swerved the Jeep into a violent tailspin on a knife-edge reaction. His knuckles white in a death grip on the steering wheel. Heart hammering in his throat as the four-wheel-drive shrieked under the pressure of sudden breaking to narrowly miss impacting against the figure laying prone on the road ahead. What would have been a devastating headfirst collision was averted in a high-pitched shriek of burning rubber.

All at once the violent thudding of four bodies and their luggage hitting the unsealed road resounded though the air with a series of winded grunts and groans. Hakuryuu, vigilant and conscientious, took no chances when he saw the unmoving hazard in his path and no acceptable means of swerving that wouldn’t end in a vicious smash. Instead, the enchanted magical beast transformed into an indignant, long-necked, white dragon. The size of a small house cat with powerful bat-like wings that beat furiously in the air. His precious cargo unceremoniously ejected beneath him. The little beast squawked angrily in the midday heat, scenting blood long before his travelers did.

Agitated, he spun a tight circle through the air before finally landing beside Hakkai’s head, prodding his owner with his tiny snout. A sorry series of clicks and purrs escaping the little dragon in his concern.

“Jesus, Hakkai, are you trying to fucking kill us?!” Gojyo spat, coughing bitterly, stars exploding behind his eyes. He'd hit the road on his back and taken a knock to the head.

“Is everyone okay!? Is anyone hurt?!” Hakkai questioned frantically, already on his hands and knees, making a bee-line toward the priest who rolled onto his side, cursing at the blossom of pain that shot against his bruised rib-cage.

“Goku…” The priest ground out, taking hold of Hakkai’s proffered hand as he rose to sit upright. In spite of his aggression and bad-tempered quarrelling, Sanzo’s deep-seated sense of responsibility for Goku’s welfare remained an unwavering constant at the forefront of his many concerns. He breathed a sigh of relief when the young man answered,

“I’m okay…ouch… Just, uh… a little banged up. I smell blood guys, are one of you bleeding? Why’d we spin out like that?”

“There’s something on the road!” Gojyo replied, dusting himself off and making his way to Hakkai on slightly unsteady footfalls. His sunglasses lay smashed beneath him. Crushed under his back in the fall. Irrelevant. He took his companion’s hand, pulling him to his feet and scanning him over with quick, crimson eyes. Satisfied that the chestnut-haired brunette was generally unharmed. 

“Not something, someone.” Sanzo corrected, rising to his feet. His hand on his pistol grip, safety off in less than a breath. He checked the chamber. Six bullets loaded and ready to dispatch whatever threat would come at them. The moment that pistol barrel was raised in the air, the rest of the party grew tense and silent. Hakuryuu took his customary place on his owner’s right shoulder, coiling himself into a tight defensive stance. The other three men took their places beside the priest, grim-faced and wound up in tense anticipation. They moved as a unit.

Wordless, precise. More than twelve months of nearly continuous brawls and skirmishes out on the open roads with blood-lusting demons had locked the quartet into an easy, militant discipline. Goku readied his staff, drawing it forth from the air before his chest. A shimmer of pressure as the air distorted. On pure force of being, the staff responded, expanding in size and girth to become a weighty six-foot-long bar meant for blunt trauma and devastating impact.

Beside him, Gojyo also reared and readied his Shakugetsujou. The four men shot each other tense glances as they marched forward. Their possessions laying scattered and forgotten on the road behind him.

“Prepare for an ambush,” Hakkai murmured quietly.

The four continued their march in unison.

There, in the distance resting still and face down on the gravel road, lay the nude, sun-damaged form of a human. Left it seemed, to rot under nature’s brutal elemental exposure. The blood Goku had scented in the air was blackened and coagulating in a pool under the body’s chest and stomach.

The four men hesitated, coming to a stand-still a few feet away. Assessing the situation.

“Oh… God...” Gojyo breathed out.

“Are they…dead?” Goku asked in barely a whisper.

Again, the four men eyed each other anxiously. Their expressions alone speaking wordless tactics. Sharing similar concerns.

_'What if this is another trap?’_

_'_ _If whoever it was, was already dead? There was little left that they could do.’_

_'_ _But they couldn’t just turn their back to a corpse on the road, could they?’_

Their unified contemplations were disrupted by Gojyo’s bitter assessment. The legs were too shapely, the waistline slender, the shoulders too narrow.

“It’s a woman.” The half-blooded demon strutted forward only to be pulled back by the shoulder and arm.

“Slow down, Gojyo, we need to think for a second.” Whispered Hakkai. A similar sentiment was shared by the priest.

“This wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been lured by a woman on the road.”

“Yeah, but she don’t look like she’s about to get up any time soon. We can’t just leave her there. She’s obviously bleedin’ out.” Goku added regretfully. His brows furrowed in concern.

Gojyo however, would not have it. He shook himself free of his companions’ grasp and turned on his heel to face them.

“Look, I’m not stupid. I know this stinks of bullshit, but Goku’s right on this one. You can’t just expect me to roll right over this, man. That could be someone’s mother or girlfriend lying there. Don’t they at least deserve a proper burial?”

His words seemed to have struck a chord with all of them. For the three pairs of eyes that gazed back at him reflected a flicker of suppressed anguish.

It lasted less than a moment. But a moment was all they needed. Sanzo conceded for the second time that day without an abrasive remark. He wasn’t impressed, but he wasn’t prepared to push the issue further. He acknowledged that his personal interactions with women may well have been severely lacking, but Gojyo and Hakkai both held women in an intimately more passionate regard. For each of them, women had proven a weakness in the past. It was very possible they’d be undone by a woman again.

Without another word, Sanzo held a finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. The movement caught the attention of the other men who ground their teeth and followed with their eyes as again Sanzo gestured. Two fingers this time, pointing at his eyes, then to Hakkai.

A silent command that read: _Watch for movement._

A third gesture, Sanzo tapped his left shoulder and pointed to Goku. Another silent command, this one meant: _Cover his back._

A final gesture, Sanzo pointed at the red-headed Gojyo, then pointed at himself, mouthing the words, _With me_.

Their tactics confirmed, the four men fanned out in unison, each set on their given tasks.

Hakkai separated first, his keen attention focused on the branches of the tree-line, wary of a sniper or scout eyeing them down from the leafy shadows. With him Goku prowled, scanning the distance and back again, tensed and ready for even the slightest movement.

Three more paces and both Sanzo and Gojyo had covered the distance and stood over the woman’s body. The high priest did not hesitate. He cocked the pistol, aiming the barrel squarely for the back of her head. His finger steady on the trigger. A hairsbreadth pressure was all that was needed to shatter her skull like a watermelon. Gojyo’s compassion had bitten him in the face too many times in the past. Hesitant, he would not make the stupid mistake of touching the woman with his bare hands.

Instead, he readied his weapon across his chest and gently nudged the body with the toe of his boot.

“Hey, hey, you alive sweetheart?” He asked sharply. Beside him Sanzo tensed on reflex, mouthing a silent curse. No response.

Gojyo tried again, this time putting enough weight into his boot to kick the body over onto her back.

“Hey! Lady, can you hear me?”

She overturned beneath his sole like a stone. Dark, filthy matted hair, tangled in soil, dried leaves and twigs covered a dirt-streaked, grubby face. Blotched with dried blood against swollen lips, a busted brow bone and blackened cheek. The stench of blood was intolerable. The woman’s face was not all that was beaten and disfigured. For her breasts and collarbone were patched with purpling bruises, scrapes and punctures. Her feet and knees were bloody and torn; and from ribcage to stomach an angry laceration oozed and festered.

“Jesus, fucking… Christ!” Gojyo choked out. His hand shooting out to cover his mouth in abject horror.

Similar chorus of, “Oh my God!” and “Who could have done this?!” came from Hakkai and Goku respectively, as they broke their vigil at the sound of their friend’s cry.

The sight and smell of the gore even made Sanzo’s iron stomach clench into knots. The barrel of the banishing gun wavering for a fraction of a second as a tremor of revulsion swept through his chest.

Gojyo however, came to a crouch beside the woman’s body, resting his heavy weapon beside his feet. If he too felt disgust or revulsion, it was masked by a fearless and perhaps reckless compassion. His fingers reached out to pull the filthy locks of hair away from her battered face before contacting her wretched skin.

“Hey… hey can you hear me?”

“Is she cold?” Sanzo asked through narrow lips.

“I can’t tell man, she’s been laying in the sun – Hey… C’mon lady, can you hear me!?” Gojyo prompted impatiently, resting his hand against her forehead. It was clammy and hot to the touch, but the Gods only knew how long her body had been out in the elements. In spite of this, Gojyo’s hesitation vanished. His hand rolled over the curves of her neck and chest, praying to feel a heartbeat.

“Goku, tell me we’re clear!” Sanzo demanded, not taking his eyes off his target.

“I’m thinking we’re good here, Sanzo. I’m not picking up anything.” The young man replied.

“Hakkai?” The priest pressed,

“Just us so far, Sanzo.” Hakkai responded, his guard still tight against possible attack.

“She’s breathing!” Gojyo shouted, snapping everyone’s attention to him at once.

“C’mon baby, breathe for me, c’mon!” The red-headed half-breed waited for no man. Rather, he began to administer CPR, taking hold the ravaged woman’s head and tilting it back to clear her airways.

“C’mon you bastards, don’t just stand there! Hakkai give me a hand to tend her wounds! Goku, go back to our trunks and get me some water and towels.”

“The first aid kit’s in my bag and bring back my robe,” Sanzo added to Gojyo’s list.

“Right! I’m on it!” Goku shouted over his shoulder as he turned on his heel and bolted to his task. The staff vanishing from his hands as quickly as it had appeared. Behind him a weak, piteous groan could be heard as the woman slowly surfaced from her feverish unconsciousness. Her limbs leaden and unresponsive. Stupefied by her sudden return to the waking world as sensation began to flood back in all at once. Her thick, blood crusted eyelids peeled themselves opened.

Shadows appeared before her unfocused vision. Shapeless and dark before the most primal of her animal nature triggered its fight or flight response. Terrified, her limbs flailed in sheer panic. A wave of unbearable agony struck her then and there. The battered woman moaned like a strangled animal, bleating its last breaths before the air wavered with her broken scream.

“Shhh! Shhh! Hey! Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright, you’re okay, we’re not going to hurt you, we’re here to help, okay!? No one’s going to hurt you!” Gojyo soothed, capturing the woman’s shoulder as she imploded into a heart-wrenching clatter of winded sobs.

“I need you to take a few deep breaths and listen, okay Miss? My name’s Hakkai, this is my friend, Goyjo and that’s priest Genjo Sanzo. We’re going to help clean you up and take the edge off the pain, but I’m going to have to ask that you focus on what I’m telling you, my dear. You’ve obviously been through a lot, so if you start hyperventilating, you’re going to make this a lot harder on yourself than it should be, okay?”

Snapping her mouth shut, the woman began to tremble violently against the ground. Her battered body snapped in on its self, pulling her knees into her chest in a defensive fetal ball as her murky, bloodshot eyes tore between Hakkai and Gojyo’s fretful expressions. It was clear to see her thoughts were disjointed and unfocused. A spur of agony whipped her raw from within sending a coil of bile rising dangerously in her throat. She coughed vehemently before at last she looked away from the two men at her sides to the shadow that stood towering over her, unmoving. Her vision landed on Sanzo’s peerless amethyst eyes and the cold steel barrel that was pointed directly at her forehead. Her heart stammered to a horrified standstill.

“P-please…. Please don’t… D-don’t…. _P-please_ …” She began to beg. Her constricted throat dry and hoarse. If Sanzo was moved by her wretched state and struggling cries, it did not reflect in his cold expression.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he injected, cutting off her pleas like a clever through flesh.

“If I even get the slightest hint that you’re playing at some pity game to fuck us over… I’m going to put you down permanently. And then I’m going to go after whoever put you up to it and make sure I bury them on top of you. Do you understand me, woman?”

He may as well had already pulled the trigger. For every word came down on her like a hammer to the skull. Sinking in through flesh and blood and eating its way through the marrow of her very bones. She lay there, devastated into complete and utter silence. Only a stream of horrified tears broke over her waterline, streaking her dirty face. Crouched at her sides, the two men gaped in abject horror at their leader. Stricken with utter disbelief.

“You… are a real piece of fucking work, you know that?!” Gojyo snarled, staring daggers at the monk. Were it not for the defeated creature at his feet, he would have balled his fists and launched them directly into Sanzo’s jaw.

Hakkai’s fury also flashed clearly in his eyes as he admitted,

“Even for you, Sanzo… that’s just _cold_.”

The tension between the trio was rapidly hitting boiling point. In spite of this, Sanzo remained unmoved. He’d said what he needed to say and he’d meant it. His associates could cram their opinions for all he cared. If nothing more, Priest Genjo Sanzo was a man of his word. Ruthless, perhaps. But sometimes, ruthless was the only language people understood. And that went as much for humans as it did for demon-kind. His point made, he lowered the barrel of his pistol, un-cocking the hammer, flicking the safety back on and returning the firearm to the holster at his thigh. He shot the pair one final look of displeasure before backing away and barking over his shoulder,

“Goku! Let’s make this quick, I’m not in the mood for this bullshit today.”

“Fucking, _asshole_!” Gojyo snapped, flicking the priest his middle finger in the universally recognized insult. “I can’t believe you, man! A woman is virtually dying at your very feet and all you care about is not being inconvenienced, you holier-than-thou piece of shit!”

“Hey, why don’t you go fuck yourself, half-breed?! I’m tired of being the one that has to think twenty moves ahead of your dumb ass, because you always let your dick do the thinking for you.” The priest shot back in peerless fury. The day had just barely begun and already the half-breed demon was shooting his mouth off before thinking.

As usual.

God, he wished the woman would have been dead and saved them all the trouble of having to break their stride. They were never going to reach India at this rate! His patience for constant detours and interruptions had dried up long ago.

“Guys! Can we all just cool the fuck off for a minute?! Let’s leave the low-brow pissing match for a time when we don’t have a mortally wounded victim on our hands! In case it escapes you, I can’t concentrate if you’re both at each other’s throats!” Hakkai exploded, furious at the both of them.

Barely de-escalated from a full-on brawl, the priest turned on his heel and stalked away, angrily tearing a pack of smokes from his back pocket and lighting up with trembling fingers. Goku meanwhile ran past him; his arms laden with bottles of water, clean towels, the first-aid kit and Sanzo’s billowing off-white robe. The latter of which the priest tore out of the young man’s arms without so much as a backward glance. Regardless, Goku’s dash powered on unbroken before he skidded to a stop at Gojyo’s side, dropping his precious load to the ground and coming down to his knees beside the woman’s coiled, shuddering form.

“Hi,” Goku offered weakly with a gentle smile that did not entirely reach his eyes. The young man had seen his fair share of horrors in his travels, most of which his youth and resilience sought to evade in blissful naivety. Even so, the mistreatment of women, whom he admired for their gentle nature, fell like an iron ball in the pit of his belly. He lacked the psychological equipment that could tolerate harm to the innocent, the gentle or the nurturing.

Beside him Gojyo had cracked open a bottle of cold water, taking hold the woman’s head, he gently sought to encourage her to drink. Meanwhile, Hakkai, with equally gentle entreaties, managed to pry her reluctant limbs free of her fetal position, yet not without struggle.

Completely disorientated and borderline catatonic, she yelped and cried bitterly. Flinching and broken beneath his hands as he worked to towel down the mess of dirt and blood that clung to her skin. If he could just clean her off a little, he could get a better idea of which of her many wounds needed immediate attention and focus a potent blast of healing chi directly into the injured tissue to stimulate the body’s natural repair at an accelerated level.

Perspiration drenched their brows not only from the blistering heat of the midday sun but also from the staggering stress of the moment. And yet, after some many minutes placating and consoling the injured woman, stressing their reassurances that despite their appearances, they meant absolutely no harm to her person, she began to settle at last. She had tried to speak but was silenced by a rattling coughing fit that forced her to vomit mouthfuls of water, bile and blood onto the road.

“That’s okay, bring it up.” Gojyo soothed. His concern focused on ensuring her head was cradled in one hand, whilst his other rolled a towel up to create a make-shift pillow. Her bloodshot eyes were glazed, unfocused he noticed as he lay her back when the vomiting fit had passed. His primal appreciation for the female form was entirely discarded by the extent of her injuries. Instead replaced with a sudden need to protect her modesty, he ripped his shirt up and over his shoulders and head, draping it against her hips and thighs to preserve what little dignity she had left. He couldn’t begin to imagine what horrors had come upon her, to be stripped naked and beaten half to death, abandoned to die in the wilderness like an animal.

“Wow! She’s in rough shape, huh?” Goku breathed beside him. Equally stricken at her treacherous state. This was perhaps the first time he’d witnessed a woman’s nude breasts in such close proximity outside of the books and artwork he’d grown accustomed to seeing in his life at the temple with Sanzo. It was clearly not how he’d imagined his first intimate encounter with a woman to pan out. There was no rush of boyish embarrassment or sudden sense of forbidden erotic charm. In its place lived a pulse of anxious shock. He tore his eyes away from her bloody chest, noting the blackened bruises against her collarbones where an impact had damaged the thin skin. And higher, to her throat where the fragile flesh appeared lacerated… burned. Rope burn? Gods, had someone tried to hang her as well?

“Shouldn’t we move her out of the sun?” Goku questioned weakly, feeling overwhelmed and soberingly powerless.

“Not yet,” Hakkai replied, his hands working to steadily towel off the blood and dirt from her ribcage, “it’s dangerous to move her until we know whether or not anything’s broken. Do you have a name my dear?”

The woman rolled her head toward him weakly. She meant to answer but the best she could manage was a gurgling groan. The threat of unconsciousness loomed ever-present. Hakkai instantly regretted making her speak, opting to shush her quietly instead whilst he worked. His immediate concern centred around the depth of the wound that spanned from her ribcage to the top of her belly. He froze for a moment, his hands still as his mind reeled back to the memory of him laying there upon the muddy road in the pouring rain all those years ago. His blood and entrails cut free and coming undone to wash away in a gutter. He shook his head to clear the vision, looking up into Gojyo’s sharp, crimson eyes.

“Looks too familiar, huh?” The red-head conceded. His companion nodded.

“Too much so.” He replied. There was no time to waste. She’d die if they didn’t act quickly.

“Goku, I want you to pull out a hypodermic needle from the med kit and prepare an injection of that pain killer liquid just like I showed you. You think you can handle that?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. I got this.” The young man snapped open the metal box and began to replicate the instructions Hakkai had been teaching him during their down-time.

“Gojyo, when he’s done, I want you to take her arm and find a vein to inject her in. Remember, slow and steady. If you jam the liquid in too fast, it’s likely to air bubble and cause more pain than relief. Be gentle.”

“Sure man, I got it.” Came his determined reply.

“Okay, I’m going to work on this mess… Be brave, Miss. This will all be over soon.”

The Gods only knew how she wished it were true. Her head lulled sideways upon the towel. Every nerve-ending and fibre screaming in pulsing, incomprehensible agony. Her entire being was nothing but a lattice of burning, stinging pain so sheer and all-encompassing, the only recurrent thought in her fractured mind was a mantra of the words,

_‘Gods let it end. Please… just let it end.’_

Her focus pulled away from the skies above as she sensed more than saw the boy crouched at her side. His brows furrowed in concentration. His eyes… golden. Like… Like the diadem he wore around his forehead. Those eyes… So filled with compassion and youth… He couldn’t have been more than a child, surely. And seeing her like this? Poor boy. He deserved better. She reached out a weak, unsteady hand. Her nails cracked and broken to the quick. Fingers blooded, bruised and torn. Covered in the dirt of the soil from the shallow grave she had clawed herself free from. 

And all at once, a warmth engulfed her. A shimmering, opalescent light that radiated a purity unlike anything her enfeebled mind could possibly ever conjure into being. It pulsed, expanding and breathing like a living entity and with every vibration it seemed to connect to something broken within her, intolerant of imperfection. Replacing her torment and pain with an overwhelming sense of freedom and renewal. Little by little, her suffering began to drain away, repelled by the potency of the light that flooded from the hands of the young man upon her belly. She noticed him now. Her vision wavering and unfocused but, again, she was drawn to the eyes. His were as green as the deep sea in the midst of a storm. And she thought for a moment that she could hear it. His heartbeat, pulsing in her ears. Replacing the high-pitched ringing with a steady, dedicated rhythm. He too was so young. So very young. What on earth was he doing out here? What did he say his name was?

Her consciousness was only vaguely aware of the sensation of something cool snaking its way inside the vein of her left forearm. She shuddered audibly. Her body beginning to float, it seemed. The hard road beneath her vanished. And with it, ebbed away the thorns of pain that strangled her airways. The pulsing in her ears grew louder. It was getting harder to keep her eyes opened. The men around her were speaking now. The red-headed one that had fed her water. His hands were so warm. And that boy. The boy with the golden eyes… Was he? Yes… Yes, he was holding her hand.

_‘Bless them, Buddha… May they find everlasting peace in your eternal light. After all, I will not die alone….’_

The last of her conscience thoughts, for her eyes closed.

Something akin to a sigh of relief left her breast.

* * *

* * *

Hakkai reminded himself to breathe as he imploded the orb of life-giving chi, consuming its radiance back into his body.

There was no more he could physically do for her wounds.

He’d reached out with the strength and power of his metaphysical being, concentrating his very life force into a wave that scanned the woman’s form from head to toe. His observance in this state of dedicated meditation revealed that she had suffered hard impact and compound fractures to many ribs, collarbones, hip and shoulder. Miraculously, nothing appeared to be dislocated or entirely broken. Her legs and feet and more importantly, her neck and spinal column seemed to be intact. The dissection from her chest to belly looked horrific but was thankfully shallow. His greatest fear was the internal bleeding that came from her intestinal tract where a blade had sliced through muscle, narrowly missing vital organs. He’d focused the bulk of his healing into correcting the inflammation and pressure on the severed nerves and split soft tissue. The rest were a myriad of superficial flesh wounds that factored as the least of his worries.

She was far from saved but mercifully ripped back from falling through death’s door.

She’d fallen into unconsciousness holding Goku’s hand.

“Is she going to be okay?” The young man breathed. “She’s starting to feel cold all of a sudden.”

“That’s all the blood and antibodies rushing away from her hands to focus on her head and chest so they can protect her vital organs,” Hakkai answered. “She’ll recover in time, but if we leave her here alone, she’ll certainly die.”

A few paces away, priest Sanzo had stood smoking down his cigarette in deep, thick draws to quell his pulsing agitation.

He'd looked on, watching the event unfold with a near morbid fascination as Hakkai worked his potent chi into an orb of healing pressure. He’d gotten steadily stronger over the passing year, the priest couldn't help but notice. Exceptionally stronger. That much was undeniable. Something inside the monk shifted and slithered uncomfortably. A memory that he’d long repressed was driven bitterly back to the surface of his conscience. It wasn’t entirely that long ago that he too had sustained a mortal wound to the belly in the midst of a heinous battle with the insane monk Rikudou. It was later explained to him that Hakkai had, amidst the chaos of Goku losing control in his anguish, been treated by his potent chi in a desperate bid to save his life.

Cho Hakkai. The man with a quiet smile and the blood of a thousand dead demons marring the very fabric of his immortal soul. His humanity severed along with his right eye.

“Fuck.” He swore under his breath, flicking the burned down butt of his cigarette into the distance. The thought occurring to him with sardonic finality.

_'The things men do for love…’_

He closed the distance between himself and his companions; the injured woman lying in their midst. The three young men beneath him braced themselves. Looking up at their leader with an unspoken question.

Well, hardly a question.

It was clear he was outnumbered three to one. The looks on their faces were evident that in spite of his plausible protests, the demons had clearly made up their minds. He knew when he was out-numbered. This was going to be one of those times. Why waste his breath on arguing against the inevitable when it would be so much more practical to proceed with caution?

That look of defeated terror in her eyes as she had looked up at him beyond the barrel of the gun and begged for her life...

No.

She wasn’t a demon.

Nor it seemed, was she some gambit used to divert attention for an ambush that didn’t come. For all intents and purposes, she was just another victim, caught in the crossfire of an uprising for supremacy. Crushed beneath the wheels of a war machine that churned out casualties with little regard for race, creed, sex or religion. How many more women would they encounter in their journey westward, beaten, bloody and gasping for breath? How many more would they be fortunate enough to save even when they lost the will to save themselves?

At twenty-six years of age, Genjo Sanzo had evolved into an objectively ruthless man.

Dedicated, caged and heavily guarded, perhaps.

Scarred by the loss of his precious adoptive father. Scarred by the loss of his brothers, his parents, his sutra, his very reason for being.

Genjo Sanzo was a monk of high order. Tao’s 31st descendent of China. A near royal inherited mantle of power and responsibility that perhaps should never have been so prematurely thrust upon his thin shoulders. But these years gone by, those shoulders had broadened. That heart still beat and bleed. And he suffered sleepless nights as much as three young men before him. For better or worse, this was his allotment. Perhaps, just this once, the hand of Kannon’s great mercy could again uncouple him from the fetters that death and loss pounded upon him. And perhaps he could remember that he was more than a symbol of purpose wearing the robes and crown of his forefather’s encumbrance.

Genjo Sanzo may well have grown into a ruthless man, but he had not now, nor ever been a heartless one.

Taking the flowing robe from his arm, he shook it out against the dry, hot air of the Nepalese summer and bent to drape it over the form of the unconscious woman at his feet. Her blood would soak into the fibres, staining the ironic vestment. But blood, at the end of the day, could be washed away with cold water and soap. A distant memory of suffering and pain.

At this moment, that robe was more than she had in the entire world.

“Pick her up. We’ll take her with us into the next town.” Sanzo stated plainly. His past rancour dissipated like smoke in the air.

“Hakkai, get Hakuryuu ready. I think we’re done with this place.” His eyes fell on Goku’s hand, holding the woman’s gently in his own. He’d seen enough.

“Goyjo, help me get our luggage off the road.”

Nothing more needed to be said. The men exchanged relieved glances and wordlessly moved back into action. Gojyo, for all his personal resentment and anger, did not argue further, nor hesitate. He wiped off his hands against a blood-soiled towel and got to his feet, taking stride beside the priest.

“You’re a still an asshole,” he felt the need to elaborate, “but you’ve always been ours.”

A smile on his lips. His ruby eyes twinkled. There was no malice in his tone. Just gratitude.

Sanzo threw up his hand dismissively, strutting on with new determination.

“Yeah, whatever man.”

He couldn’t find the strength to argue.

When he woke that morning he had felt hollow.

A vessel with a finite purpose.

As of this moment, the dharma wheel had turned again. That sense of depression eased under a new direction.

His overall purpose may well have been finite - Even so, he realized that sometimes, all it took was a moment to remember: you were anything but hollow.


	2. Hallowed Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, that from the mud the lotus grows.  
> Be strong.

In less than ten minutes the four men had reloaded the freshly transformed Hakuryuu with both their luggage and their latest nameless passenger. Garbed in Sanzo’s robe, yet completely insensible to her handling, Gojyo and Goku lay the woman carefully across their laps. She felt painfully lightweight atop their thighs. A sign that she had suffered dehydration and malnourishment along with the beatings and torment. It was incredible to have found her still alive. Surely the Merciful Goddess herself had blessed her with some great purpose if nothing more.

It was clearly not her time to die.

Hakkai had scanned the road and put his foot down on the accelerator with some force. Keen to put as much distance between themselves and the spot where they had found her as possible. Before they left however, he’d asked Goku to scout the nearby area for signs of anything that might have belonged to the woman. Anything that they might use to identify her.

He'd come back a few minutes later just as the men had reloaded the last of their luggage. Empty-handed.

He followed a trail of the woman's blood off road and into the dense forest edge where there were signs of the leaf litter being disturbed. Broken branches, snapped twigs. No sign of a struggle, just an agonizingly slow descent that lead back to the road where she evidently collapsed in exhaustion and likely would have expired were it not for their arrival. She was running from something. Well, hardly running. The way the leaves and soil had gathered into furrows suggested she had walked, stumbled, crawled on hand and foot, then finally dragged herself by the belly. She must have been in a world of agony. But her determination to escape her tormentors was absolute. And to Goku, that was exceptionally impressive. He had learnt to suffer the blows of enemies and pains of battle with as much grace and ignorance as possible. Fueled by the adrenaline of combat that masked all pain in the heat of the moment.

But to stand and take repeated cuts and beatings, likely bound and unable to fight back. He couldn’t even begin to imagine it. He didn’t want to. The very thought sent a sensation of frigid water snaking through his bowels. Sickening him.

He reported his lack of findings and the extent of his tracking to his companions. They accepted his briefing with stern nods and little else. They weren’t surprised.

In the front passenger’s seat, Sanzo was busy giving Hakkai directions to an off-road clearing some nine kilometers ahead of their present location. The map detailed a thin stream that veined off from a greater network of a vast river that flowed south-west into a valley leading back through the mountain range.

Aside from Sanzo and Hakkai’s murmured navigation, Goku and Gojyo remained quiet and still in the back seat. The red-headed young man cradled the woman’s head in his lap. Wincing for every time the Jeep bumped and stuttered as they pulled off the main mountain road and into the less traveled forest route ahead. His brows furrowed in concern. His features taunt and grim as he watched the blossoms of blood soak through Sanzo’s robe, flowering like macabre burgundy roses against the cream linen that touched her wounds. A fresh wave of anger reared its ugly head in the core of his belly. He too had noticed the angry blooded welts against her neck that looked suspiciously like rope burn. He’d discreetly checked her wrists and ankles. Cursing inwardly through gritted teeth when his suspicions were confirmed; the marks matched the ones around her throat. She’d been tied up at some point. That much was certain.

Tied up and… Gods knew what else.

His concerns were mirrored by Hakkai, who during his inspection of her body was sharp and discreet enough to pass a cursory glance at her sex.

Only an internal examination by a qualified doctor or nurse could possibly identify correctly if she had been raped recently. At least, his quick over-arching inspection did not find her womanhood bloodied. He’d reached out with his chi during the body scan, spending a moment or more directing his observance to her core, searching for a disturbance to her Root and Sacral Charkas. Such an intimate inspection even metaphysically was foreign to him. He searched for pain, torn muscle, damage to the pelvic wall but could not be certain of his findings.

In a moment’s privacy outside of Sanzo and Goku’s earshot, Gojyo had asked him with two words.

“Has she…?” The sentence trailed off.

“No.” Hakkai replied simply. And then added quietly, “I don’t think so. But I can’t be sure.”

Gojyo did not press the issue further. He trusted Hakkai’s assessment implicitly. For his companion rarely failed. They’d need a doctor. That much was certain. Hell, she’d need hospitalization and months of rehab at best, considering her traumas. Such was their lot, that their travels took them too far out of the main cities to access that kind of care. Their choice of routes however were a pre-calculated tactic. The more rural and low-key their travel, the less opportunity there was for innocents to be caught in the crossfire of their unforgiving battles. What they sacrificed for comfort and speed, they attempted to make up for with cunning and determination.

Beside him, Goku gently held the woman’s thin legs against his lap. His expression tumultuously being eaten by anger, confusion and discontent. Gojyo couldn’t help but notice the changes that were steadily coming over Goku these days. He was getting older now. Loosing much of his whimsical childish innocence in the crucible of hard travel and harder battles. He didn’t laugh the same way he used to. He’d grown steadily taller, broader, more muscular, more defined. His golden eyes shimmered a little darker. His desire for food was not so much a gluttonous rush for taste and texture. Rather, he ate with the purpose of a ravenous animal. Fueling himself it seemed, for the next great fight.

These days Goku seemed to take little pleasure from the meal table, if any at all. Food was just a means to an end. A source of energy that his incredible metabolic structure was burning through at an incomprehensible rate.

Goku no longer fought with Gojyo over dinner plates. Instead, he consumed each portion with an evolved, silent eloquence. As though this meal may very well be his last.

They had all grown older this past year. Aged a little more dramatically before their time. They had joked with each other repeatedly that the stress of the road would lead them to premature balding. Sanzo was especially hit as the butt of this joke, for he above all carried the greatest burden on his shoulders. Once upon a time the gag was funny. Giving rise to his anger and the sharp snap of his large paper fan as he belted his companions for their idiotic teasing.

Eight months later, it wasn’t funny at all. They’d not dared to re-mention it.

Sanzo woke every morning to the lines on his forehead becoming clearer. His deep, violet-hued eyes appeared just a little harder than the day before. He knew he was only twenty-six, but he felt triple that age most days. Worse after a day and night’s hard battle. The stress and strain of his companions triumphs and defeats reflected against him heavily.

Yes, he treated them badly.

Yes, he belittled them when they got on his nerves and truth be told they got on them so often he had no nerves left… Just raw impulses of agitated fury followed by lulls of hollow emptiness as he struggled to center himself. To remember his teachings, his path, his father.

It was getting harder with every passing day.

In those rare moments of privacy when they were afforded an inn or a hotel with a private bathroom and mirror; he found himself checking his hairline. No, it wasn’t receding and his thick, gold blonde hair was not thinning either. But sometimes, depending on the light, he thought he saw thin streaks of white hairs clustered here and there amongst the rest.

He’d wipe down the steam from the mirror, look a little closer. Were his eyes playing tricks with him?

Was he really going gray prematurely?

_'Well fuck!'_

If the others saw this, he’d never live it down. So he'd asked Hakkai for his grooming scissors under the pretext of giving himself a quick haircut. And he did in fact trim the ends, cutting free a few inches of length without compromising his longer layers and side-swept mop. But those streaks of white hairs - he cut those down to the very scalp, scowling in disgust before flushing the handfuls of discarded hair down the nearest toilet.

Sanzo wasn’t a vain man by any stretch of the imagination. But he was equally unprepared to submit himself to ravages of time so early in the game.

He’d returned the scissors with a quiet thanks.

He’d not answered Hakkai when the other man offered him a compliment on his grooming.

He didn’t feel he deserved it.

Some twenty minutes later the Jeep emerged out onto the clearing they had been aiming for by following Sanzo’s stringent directions. The only thing the map could not account for was the fact that the spring and summer months had been so brutal, the heat had caused the stream to dry up entirely, yielding nothing more but a rich, humid mess of muddy, decomposing leaf-litter and sandy shale.

“Sorry, Goku, it looks like you won’t be going swimming after all.” Hakkai apologized. A half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood.

“It’s okay. We have enough drinking water anyway. That should keep us set if we stick to our rations until we get to the next town.” Came the young man’s distracted reply.

Once upon a time, they would have had to deal with his exasperated, childish whining.

It was getting rarer and rarer these days.

And in its place came surprisingly rational and level-headed comments such as these.

Even so, they still caught the others off-guard. Goku, in spite of his chronological origins outwardly maintained the appearance of a boy in his late teenage years. His attitudes and eccentricities matched his youthful characteristics in essence. In spite of the numerous admonishments and seemingly endless itinerary of berating he received primarily from Gojyo and Sanzo on the daily; He did not deter from looking upon Sanzo as his adoptive father. And indeed, regarded both Hakkai and Gojyo as his blood brothers without question. They teased him for his youth, naivety and ignorance, this much was certain. But beneath the layers of false bravado and transparent rivalry- the flowers of respect, admiration, attachment and even love grew deep within the recesses of his heart.

On this day, the other men did not act so surprised at Goku’s suddenly mature consideration. In this moment, a profound change had come over him and it’s catalyst was the presence of the woman they had rescued.

Gojyo laughed inwardly. Not voicing his thoughts aloud.

_‘Our little monkey boy is growing up to be a true man. Shame. The only time I’ve seen him try to be mature in front of a lady, and she’s too unconscious to notice.’_

“Well, we’re out of the sun at least,” Hakkai said with his characteristic smile. “And it’s secluded enough to give us some space to think and plan our next move. How’s sleeping beauty doing back there?”

Gojyo gently brushed the sweat from her brow with the back of his hand before feeling for her temperature with the inside of his wrist. He scowled, then placed his fingers at her throat, taking note of her pulse.

“She’s still out cold. Breathing better though. It’s hard to tell if it’s a fever ripping through her or the heat.”

“Probably a mixture of both.” Sanzo replied. “Her skin was almost glowing red in places that weren’t caked in dirt and blood. Chances are she’s been exposed to the elements for longer than can be considered prudent.”

“This is all just so twisted, man!” Goku exclaimed weakly. At some point in the journey off the main road he’d gone right back to holding her hand gently in his own. Now he looked up from her dirty feet and continued,

“I know some people are just low, but who would do this to a defenseless woman? And why? What would they gain out of beating a girl to the brink of death and letting her die in the mountains?”

“Those are million yen questions, my friend.” Hakkai replied quietly. His smile dissipating into a striking scowl. “I’m afraid only the lady herself is capable of giving us those answers, and even if she could, she’s not exactly obliged to tell a group of strangers anything after what she’s been through.”

“Well, we obviously can’t look after her here and she’s in no condition to travel with us anywhere except to the nearest medical clinic,” Gojyo added.

“So we take her with us,” Sanzo interjected. “Here.” His slender index finger pointed at a bold black dot on the map he’d been studying whilst the others talked.

“According to this, our next most viable location from here is Muktinath Temple. This map puts it at about twenty-eight kilometers south-west. If we keep a rapid pace and rejoin this road from here to here,” he pointed, “we should make it in about two hours or less.”

“That’s provided we don’t run into any trouble.” Hakkai replied, leaving off the obvious statement. For they were the Sanzo party. And word of their travels across China to India through Nepal garnered something of a misguided fan-fair. And with it drew an unprecedented attraction of demonic revulsion and uncompromising misfortune. Rare were the days when they were left to travel in peace, unmolested by assassins and adversaries aplenty. Where the demons did not strike, their travels were fractured by poor weather, ill health, in-fighting or treacherous terrain. Often a combination of all these elements were piled against them. Even so, they pushed onward.

To the West.

For the destruction of the forces that imbalanced the world lay deep in the recesses of India.

And their mission was to find the source and lay waste to its bonds and any who stood in their way would not be refused.

“Yeah, but hang on!” Gojyo rejoined, “Almost every single one of these temples we’ve visited in the past have been full of uptight, God-fearing baldies that insisted their castles are hallowed ground for none other than the holy and whatever other bullshit they wanna tag to the end of their pretty speeches. And if I remember correctly, they don’t take kindly to women in their presence either.”

“Eh – I hate to admit it Sanzo, but he’s got a point.” Hakkai conceded.

“Of this, I’m certain. Only under the circumstances, I’m almost positive they’re going to make an exception to the rule.”

Behind the passenger’s seat, Goku could be seen grinning for the first time since the day had dawned. He nodded to himself knowingly.

“Oh yeah? And how you figure that, monk?” Gojyo asked, quirking his brow. An equally knowing smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

Sanzo waited a beat before answering.

“I’m just good at being especially persuasive.”

Something about the gravel in his tone, the glint in his eyes, that borderline pissed off smirk on his lips and self-assured confidence brooked no further argument.

The priest handed the map back to Hakkai who took it in his long, slender fingers and scrutinized the route ahead before setting it down on the dash and turning the key, kick-starting Jeep’s engine to life.

“I think a little temple R and R is just what we’re needing.” Hakkai rejoined. His own charming smirk returned to his lips.

“Well, let’s get going already!” Goku exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Gojyo replied. “Besides, our new lady friend desperately needs a bath.”

Roar of the engine, followed by the crunch of tires picking their way through dense forest. Jeep drove his passengers onward, leaving nature as untouched as they had found it.

Uninterrupted, the Sanzo party made considerably good time. Their Jeep had arrived through the lesser travelled off-road pilgrimage tracks in just under the two hours Sanzo had initially predicted. The towering temple compound was nothing short of a multi-story palace, designed in traditional Nepalese architectural style with ancient eastern influences to the slanting, jade tiled roofs and red timber columns. Dozens of thick ropes strung with multi-colored prayer flags could be seen billowing in the hot winds from the adjoining gate buttresses before combining to a single peak above the temple’s highest rooftop. The sheer tranquil majesty of the place was undeniable. The grounds were immaculately landscaped with native trees and shrubs that bloomed white perfumed flowers even in the height of summer. The great iron gates that seemed the only main access point for the temple grounds were proudly thrown open in a sign of perpetual welcome. Gigantic stone-carved dragons stood as sentries, looking down imposingly upon any who would enter with silent judgment in their unmoving brass eyes.

Like many great temples across Nepal, this one was also home to international travellers who would embark about their spiritual yearly pilgrimages in hopes of receiving blessings from the devout order of holy monks that resided within. Hakkai shut down Jeep’s engine as they parked just within the gates.

“So, mighty Lord Sanzo, how do you wanna play this? Should one of us go up as your emissary and announce the arrival of your holy ass?” Gojyo asked with casual sarcasm.

“If I had an emissary, it wouldn’t be a piss-ant like you to besmirch my introduction.” The priest shot back matter-of-factly. “Stay here until you’re called. I’ll go handle this myself.”

He was out of the Jeep and stalking up the sandstone pathway before Gojyo could so much as begin spitting back a return insult.

“Sanzo! What about your robe?” Goku called out after him. “Isn’t he gonna need that to prove who he is?” He added questioningly of his companions. Up ahead however, Sanzo simply waved him off unconcernedly without looking back.

“I think our Sanzo’s sway is made up of more than just his clothes, Goku.” Hakkai replied.

“Remember, the red chakra on his forehead is kinda like an all-access pass bestowed upon those that are chosen to carry the holy scriptures.”

“And believe me, its existence does nothing to improve his spoiled ass. But if ever I wanted him to pull rank, now would be the perfect time.” Gojyo added quietly. Goku nodded in understanding, looking back down to the woman's hand clasped gently against his own. The tenderness in the gesture had caught Gojyo’s attention.

“This the first time you ever hold hands with a girl, monkey boy?” He asked with a smirk. The edge of teasing sarcasm that usually accompanied such questions was not present in his tone.

“I, uh…” Goku hesitated, his focus entirely on the woman’s blood-stained fingers. Her skin so pale compared to his own. He couldn’t help but notice the bluish tinge of her veins as they snaked across the back of her hand. So profound and sharp. A matrix of tiny tunnels that carried life essence across the network of the human body.

“She just, kinda reached out to me. She looked so sad… Like, she was sorry… I didn’t want her to feel alone y’know?” He murmured quietly. “Like I once did.”

Back within the temple’s antechamber, Sanzo made his presence known to a regally dressed monk in his mid-thirties with hazel eyes that manned an ornately carved timber desk scattered with books and ledgers. Behind him rested a great bronze statue of Buddha rising from the massive petals of an open lotus flower. A stunning visage to behold. He could only assume the monk's station was something akin to the clerk-abbot by the way in which he was addressed.

“You are welcome to Muktinath Temple, my son. Do you come to lay offerings at the shrine of Buddha?”

“Thank you, but no. I am priest Genjo Sanzo, the 31st of China. My servants and I travel westward on route to India to investigate the source of the demon uprising that unbalances our lands.” How many times in the course of the year had he given this same perfunctory speech over and over again?

“We came upon a victim of some degenerate's brutality thirty kilometers back on the main road south-east of your temple. Their condition is treacherous. Would we not have found them when we did, they would have surely died like an animal in the wilderness; picked to pieces by predators and vermin in the mountains. I humbly request you assist us with lodgings and call urgently for your best physicians. The victim is unconscious and has lost a considerable amount of blood to beatings.”

The clerk who had risen to his feet at Sanzo’s entrance now stood wide-eyed and slack-jawed in disbelief for what he was hearing but made no move to rouse himself further. Sanzo gave him all of two heartbeats before his patience expired like a guttering candle-flame.

“What part of: _I’ve got a person dying of blood-loss outside_ , didn’t you understand? Move your ass, go get your chief abbot and go call a damn doctor!”

“I – uh… We… You said you were a Sanzo priest?! As in – _The_ travelling Sanzo priest?!”

“Yes.” He resisted the urge to clench his fists. “You’ll forgive my lack of raiment, only the injured was found stripped naked, so I gave them my robe to preserve their dignity.”

This seemed enough to finally rouse the clerk from his shocked stupor as he clamored around his desk.

“Then, you will forgive me, my Lord, I am but a simple temple clerk and lack the authority to grant your request. I will fetch my superior at once. I beg you, please wait here a few moments. Did you travel on foot? Where are your servants waiting?”

“Inside the main gate. Three men in a green Jeep with the injured. Be quick. We’ve done what we can to tend their wounds but lack the provisions to treat the extent of their injuries.” Sanzo replied sharply. He’d been watching the man’s eyes. Watching the shades of shock and mild suspicion become replaced with consternation and finally – fear.

Yes.

There was always fear these days.

Like a poison that was infecting the human race no matter how far they travelled.

He was not kept waiting for more than a few minutes. But even that short time span seemed to stretch into a disproportionate age. He’d purposely omitted revealing the gender of their acquired victim so as to not raise argument and cause further delay. Sanzo's illustrious status meant in many capacities he was not accustomed to having his will questioned within a formal setting. He felt naked without his robe and rakusu. Even so, the Maten Sutra was rolled tightly in the back pocket of his faded blue denim jeans. And Koumyou’s golden crown that marked his status was tucked away in his backpack with the rest of their luggage in Jeep’s travel trunk.

 _‘Here we go...’_ He thought to himself as an orange-robed monk, advanced in years and flanked by two adepts in training came bustling through a set of great arching doors along the antechamber’s corridor, headed toward him on swift footfalls. They had not even finished clearing the distance before the elder among them addressed him.

“Namaste, my son, fortuitous blessings upon you!”

Sanzo clasped his hands in prayer pose, bowing his head a fraction before returning the greeting somewhat stiffly.

“Namaste.”

“Brother Batsa tells us you have announced yourself as Priest Genjo Sanzo of China. I am known as Rinpoche Saang, Chief Abbot of Muktinath. These are my students; Brothers Imay and Hartaj.” He introduced, gesturing to the bald young men in coffee coloured monastic robes to his left and right before continuing.

“You will forgive our lack of preparations; we had not received word from the Anahata Monasteries to validate your arrival.”

“I prefer the exact location of my travels to be kept anonymous for the benefit of those involved,” Sanzo answered.

“Yes, but I’m afraid this puts us in a rather unique position as I’m sure you can appreciate: We will have to receive confirmation from the Anahata of your identity before we are able to extend the appropriate hospitalities due you and your traveling companions. Unfortunately, the location of our great temple makes communications to and from the city a lengthy process. Three or four days at best-"

“Did Brother Batsa not tell you that among my party is an injured civilian found naked and bleeding to death on the road? We’re almost a hundred kilometers from the main city and they don’t have three or four days left to live unless they receive medical attention immediately.” Sanzo shot back tightly.

Were it any other situation he might not have minded negotiating through the temple’s bureaucratic bullshit. Under the circumstances however, he was in no mood to dance the diplomatic steps the Chief Abbot was trying to push upon him.

“I appreciate the urgency and scope of your compassion, young man. And as a gesture of good faith, I have sent Brother Batsa and our in-house physician, Doctor Amir out to the gate to inspect your injured. However as the season of pilgrimage has ended for this year, our hospice is regrettably closed to the public without written accreditations.”

Sanzo could almost feel the vein pulsing angrily at his brow, his patience for this farce was growing dangerously thin. A lash of indignation flashed in his eyes. His mirthless countenance grew steadily more rigid. Being questioned was one thing his tolerance could be stretched for, but being refused and questioned simultaneously was enough to leave him indignant.

“Are you seriously going to stand there and question the credibility of my title?” He began tensely. Preparing himself to unleash a verbal smack-down.

“Absolutely and unequivocally.” Rinpoche Saang shot back without a moment’s hesitation.

“In the very same manner of which I had stood to question the credibility of the two other Sanzo parties that have presented themselves at our door inside of the past six months.”

“Wait... What!?” This statement shot a hole in Sanzo's guard. His brows furrowed not so much in anger, as they did in disbelief.

“You heard me, young man. The famous travelling Sanzo party headed west to India has become a source of regrettably profitable affair, for what reasons I cannot entirely imagine. Needless to say, this temple has been targeted by two separate groups of imposters who compounded their blasphemy by seeking to loot our museum of irreplaceable religious relics and grievously injured our fellow brothers in the process. Certainly, you cannot expect me to compromise the sanctity of our venerable order further without explicit proof of your position from creditable sources?! Until that moment comes, I will not receive you further than this very antechamber. I hope I make myself clear?”

Unbelievable!

So it was happening here as well!

It seemed every Jack and his dog wanted to play at being the Sanzo party. Once in their travels already had they encountered cheap imposters bent on basic criminal extortion. Then there was the horrifying doppelganger incident a few months after that could very well had been their last fight ever, were it not for their decisive tactics and irrefutable resilience. Sanzo sighed inwardly. This little misadventure was beginning to be more trouble than it was worth.

“These imposters that attacked your temple, did they say what they were after or why?”

“Regretfully, they were not compliant to our questioning on both occasions. The first contingent was received whilst I was absent and were dispatched into the hands of the local authorities when their Sanzo priest’s ineptitude at reciting the core tenants of the Heart Sutra raised suspicions during evening puja.” Rinpoche Saang commiserated as strode across the floor and paused by the great ornate reception desk.

From the collection of ledgers and books, he selected a considerable volume, beautifully bound in deep red linen. He flicked it open and began to leaf through the stiff, thick pages whilst his students remained rooted to their spots, silently standing guard.

“The second group,” he continued, “were far more mercenary in their approach. They conducted themselves with grace and equity insofar as their demands were met swiftly. I was almost fooled, for they matched the initial description of the authentic party quite closely; until I caught them ransacking our valuables.”

“Well, that seems pointless.” Sanzo remarked.

“Indeed it was, young man. Indeed it was. But alas, we live in interesting times. Perhaps now you can better appreciate my reluctance to admit you.” Rinpoche Saang replied, finally looking up from the pages of the book he’d been assessing. His aged features held an intelligent, almost fox-like quality to them. And his presence carried a simple disarming self-awareness that Sanzo could appreciate even through the layers of his resentment.

“Tell me, young man, do you know who this is?” The Chief Abbot asked at last as he lifted the book he'd been flipping through from the table and held it open before him.

What Sanzo saw within its pages made his heart stammer to a standstill and drop from his chest. The book was in fact a photo album. And the photograph that was displayed reflected the ever-gentle, smiling countenance of the late Komuyuu Sanzo, sitting placidly upon the front steps of Kinzan Temple’s meditation rooms.

The shock of being faced with his adoptive guardian proved more moving than what Genjo Sanzo could have possibly imagined. His throat closed in on its self and the sudden sensation of the floor shifting beneath his feet became alarmingly too real.

“Ahh, I see a spark of recognition in your eyes, my son. That is a fine thing.” Rinpoche Saang said quietly in his soothing, musical tone. “All you need do to prove your legitimacy, is give me the name of the man in this photograph. The rest, the law of karma will eventuate.”

He could feel it coming all at once.

A trembling in his hands.

A tightness in his chest.

He couldn’t stop, nor reverse the sudden stinging in the corners of his eyes.

It was one thing to remember the face of a loved one and make peace with their passing. He’d had fifteen years to come to terms with this fact. It was quite another entirely, to be met with an image so clear and vivid it seemed as though it would become animate and call his name at any given moment.

He couldn’t stop himself from remembering the defined lines of an orange paper plane as it soared across the morning sky.

“That is my Master.” He uttered. Barely a whisper. “And his name was Houmai before he became Koumyuu Sanzo the 30th of China.”

It hurt him.

Saying those words.

That name.

In past tense.

He couldn’t take his eyes from the photograph. In fact, for one single, mad moment he wanted to reach out and grab it. To pull it from the book and crush it to his chest. He wanted to. But he couldn’t bring himself to move for fear the glazing in his eyes would spill over his waterline. So he held his breath. And let the sudden wave of sheer agony cut him open from within as he stood in mortified silence. Aching under the beauty of that smile that could light the morning skies.

Rinpoche Saang nodded tersely, snapping the book shut with a crack so loud it echoed off the very walls and made Sanzo start visibly. So engrossed was he in the power of that photograph that he had unwillingly tunneled off his senses from the world around him. He’d not noticed Brother Batsa’s silent return until that very moment. The Chief Abbot was nodding to himself as the clerk whispered something indiscernible into his superior's ear before retreating a pace and giving Sanzo an apologetic smile. The monk bowed his head respectfully.

"I see." Rinpoche Saang said at last, tossing the photo album carelessly back upon the desk with another loud thump that seemed exceptionally displaced in the otherwise quiet temple. The effect made Sanzo start for the second time in less than two minutes.

"Lord Sanzo." Saang began, mouthing the honorific for the first time since their meeting.

"Yes?" The priest replied, cursing himself inwardly. Praying, perhaps, that he could just pull himself together. It was only a photograph, after all.

"Lord Sanzo, you'll forgive my former impertinence. I may be an old, foolish man to you, cut off from the real world; but I have seen enough in my time to conclude that unlike the other unfortunates that dared defame your holy mission, you are, by virtue of the sacred chakra on your brow and the aura of your comportment, very much the _genuine_ article." Here the Chief Abbot gave a wry smile. His storm coloured eyes glittering in sincere merriment.

Sanzo opened his mouth to answer, but Rinpoche Saang lifted his hand, silencing the young priest in a single gesture.

"It appears, however, that you have not been entirely honest with me now, have you - Hmm?"

It took him a moment longer than he would have liked, but eventually Sanzo found his tongue and answered.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

To this, Saang barked out a sharp, echoing laugh that again disturbed the silence of the temple and ricochet back against the walls around them.

"Nonsense!" The Chief Abbot exclaimed. "While I admire your humility in rescuing a child of Buddha, I wish to advise that it will be a hundred years too soon before I allow a woman to trespass upon _these_ holy stones."

 _'For fuck's sake!'_ Was Sanzo's immediate thought.

What he said in reply was spat like a shard of ice. 

"That's a real shame. What tenuous respect I had for you and your order just flew out the window along with all the fucks I couldn't be damned to give."

The coarseness of his language drew gasps and expressions of wide-eyed offence from both the young monks in training and the clerk who again took on that gaping, stupefied appearance.

"Oh ho ho! _Yes_!" Cried Rinpoche Saang however, clapping his hands sharply. "There it _is_! The famous fire of the fabled travelling priest, Lord Genjo Sanzo of China! I was wondering what more it would take to bait the dragon, but alas, the fangs have been revealed!"

Now it was Sanzo's turn to stand taken aback. He rose his right brow in wordless question, finding himself suddenly quite unprepared for the Chief Abbot's next move.

Who was this crazy old coot?!

"Come, don't be so grim-faced, Lord Sanzo! For if there was one thing your imposters lacked, was your genuine ferocious tenacity and absolute refusal to lick arse!"

To this, Sanzo could not repress a genuine smirk. The Chief Abbot continued,

"That, and the fact that neither could answer for the monk in the old photo to save their lives. Do you know how much federal offices pay for fraudulent criminals in this day and age? Like pissing in the wind, I tell you! Now come at once, my Lord. Your servants have been shown to their quarters and I've been given to understand that Doctor Amir has seen fit to take your enfeebled victim to the infirmary where she'll receive the best care humanly possible." With that the sharp-tongued Chief Abbot made to turn on his heel and walk away, taking his two quiet monastic guards with him.

"Are you always so full of contradictions?" Sanzo demanded of his turned back. The tone in his voice was enough to still the old man's footsteps. He looked over his shoulder and replaced Sanzo's question with one of his own.

"Why, whatever do you mean, Lord Sanzo?"

"I mean, a moment ago you were adamant that a century's passing wouldn't be enough for you to allow a woman to enter your temple. Now you tell me she's been taken care of?"

"Ahh, that's the trouble with restless youth, you only hear what you want and lack the capacity to infer the meanings between the words." Rinpoche Saang replied, turning to face the high priest once more.

"I said it would be a hundred years too soon before I let a woman trespass upon _these_ holy stones. And I meant it with every fibre of my literal being." The Chief Abbot enunciated, stomping his foot upon the marble stone slabs beneath him to highlight his point before continuing.

"Women and the un-ordained are regretfully prohibited from entering here, the temple proper." The old monk spread his hands to illustrate the room around them before adding,

"The Nagnika Tower however, can be found in the north wing of the grounds and is blessedly free of pilgrims this time of year. Fortuitous was your arrival, for the great Goddess Kannon oversees the north wing and is especially gracious to her female visitors. Funny, how the laws of karma work, aren't they Lord Sanzo?"

With a wink and a charming smile, Rinpoche Saang turned on his heel once more and made to clear the length of the antechamber with his fellow monks in tow. In moments he had disappeared through the great arching doors he had originally entered, leaving Brother Batsa to tend to his illustrious guest.

"Please Lord Sanzo, if you would be so good as to come this way. I will lead you to the north wing and rejoin you with your entourage."

Overwhelmed and suddenly exhausted, the priest wiped his hand across his face tiredly before nodding and allowing himself to be lead away.

But not before casting a final, longing glance at the red bound book that contained the photograph of his beloved Master.


	3. Scars

"If you'll forgive my saying so, Lord Sanzo; You appear tired. I can only imagine the strain this journey has put upon you." Brother Batsa said quietly as he walked the high priest down a magnificent garden path edged with manicured gardenia bushes, whose alluring fragrance perfumed their every step. 

"Yeah, it's been a barrel of laughs." The priest answered in cutting cynicism. Clearly not in the mood for small talk after the scene in the antechamber with Rinpoche Saang. Beside him, the clerk took his meaning to heart. Bowing his head slightly, he uttered an apology.

"Forgive me, Lord Sanzo. I meant no offence. And... I assure you, nor did Master Saang. He is a good man in heart and mind though his practices have raised some questions over time. If nothing more, I simply hope you'll forgive my former idleness. Being that you were the third Priest Sanzo to grace our doors, you can imagine how rattled I was since our last encounters." 

To this Sanzo allowed himself to sigh,

"Look, I don't hold it against you. If I were in your position, I probably would have handled it just about the same." The priest answered. His irritation slowly draining away. 

"It's not the first time we've come across impersonators that have complicated our path. And it probably won't be the last time either." 

To this the older monk nodded, offering his superior an apologetic smile. They had come at last to a massive ivy clung tower whose huge timber doors were carved in blossoming lotus flowers being danced upon by great cranes. Their wings outstretched heavenward. From within his flowing sleeve Brother Batsa drew forth an iron key and unlocked the doors, gesturing Sanzo within.

"I hope for your sake, that such atrocities do not darken your path again, my Lord. Please, just this way." 

Within, the great tower was of equal opulence. The impossibly high ceilings were hung in peach-coloured silks that fluttered in the heat of the summer breeze. Great arched open windows allowed the light to pool in from all around and in the centre of the tower's floor, amid a mosaic of coloured tiles, stood a grand marble fountain carved in the divine likeness of Kanzeon Bosatsu herself. The Merciful Goddess stood upon the eight pronged Dharma Wheel in repose. A lotus flower in her hand. Her stone eyes, ever watchful. Her smile, serine yet empowered. The sheer aura of harmonious tranquillity the fountain offered was nothing short of magnificent. The sound of flowing water instantly soothed the tired soul. An oasis of centred serenity. Sanzo, taken in awe by the sheer majesty of the tower, longed to linger if just for a moment. To rid himself of this oppressive heat. To drink from the fountain. To partake of an instant's true peace if nothing more.

Even so, he did not break nor slow his stride. But rather, followed his guide faithfully, anxious to be reunited with his companions in spite of his stinging desires. 

Down a beautiful wide corridor he was led and through another set of doors that were opened back to reveal an elegantly furnished tea room with a low Eastern style table carved from precious timbers. Seated around it, atop hand woven Nepalese rugs and over-stuffed silken ottomans rested the other three men of his party. Cho Hakkai, Sha Gojyo and Son Goku were respectively being tended by two silent young boys in dark grey monastic robes. They had placed a cast iron pot of tea upon the table and served each of their guests with beautiful earthen wear cups. A platter of fruits, flat breads and sweet cheeses had been spread along the table center. As could be expected, Goku was eating his way through his second plateful thus far. His expression vastly altered back to its usual beaming contentment. Beside him, his companions looked equally refreshed as they murmured their thanks of the boys, before their attention to was taken to the door. They smiled at him collectively. Their leader returned to them safely.

"If you would be so good as rest and refresh yourself here whilst we prepare your rooms, we would be most grateful, Lord Sanzo." Said Bother Batsa earnestly as he stood aside and allowed the high priest to enter. His keen eyes read the relieved expressions on his companion's faces.

"Where's the woman?" He asked shortly, fixing the clerk with his dissecting glare. 

"It was as you said, my Lord, she is in astoundingly poor condition in spite of Master Hakkai's preternatural Qigong abilities. Our resident physician, Doctor Amir and his assistant surgeon registrars are attending her as we speak. You can rest assured, she is in good hands. You have undoubtedly saved her life this day. Now, I beg you rest and recover your strength. Once the doctor has done all he can, he will come and report her condition to you directly. Until such time, the brotherhood and I will tend you all faithfully. You will want for nothing in our care." 

Thus, the monk gestured, calling the two bald headed boys back to his side on silent footfalls. 

_'Curious...'_ Sanzo thought to himself as he watched them move soundlessly across the room. Barely the rustle of their robes to signal their passing. All three stood in prayer pose and bowed to the Sanzo party reverently.

"You will find me in the library down the corridor, the third room to your left, if you have need of my service. I beg you not to hesitate." 

And with that, he shut the door, leaving the four men to the tranquillity of the tearoom where the sound of wind-chimes could be heard in the distance.

"Sanzo! This food is amazing! You have to try this goat’s cheese with these figs!" Goku exclaimed around an ecstatic mouthful. 

"Eat or speak, monkey, don't do both!" Gojyo admonished, clapping the young man over the back of the head. Goku yelped from the sting and proceeded to elbow his offender in the ribs. The two men progressed to embroil themselves in a fast-paced tennis match of rebounding quips and snarky remarks. 

Meanwhile, Hakkai looked on with a tired smile, marvelling at how the pair found the energy after just a few minutes respite. 

"I see you three wasted no time making yourselves at home." Sanzo began. 

"It took a little convincing, but the monks that came down from the temple grounds after you left were surprisingly efficient, all things considered." Hakkai replied, gesturing for Sanzo to take a seat on the free ottoman by his side.

With a grunt, the priest cleared the distance on swift footfalls and lowered himself heavily to the forgiving cushion. Exhaustion crept like a snake along his spine. He closed his eyes a moment, just to focus on his breath. Drown out the sounds of the two idiots bickering across the table. The scent of incense in the air. When he re-opened them, Hakkai had already poured him a cup of fragrant green tea. 

"Will you two bastards shut up for a minute and let me think!" Sanzo finally snapped, dropping his balled fist to the table with enough force to send the tableware clattering.

"Gojyo started it, he's always picking on me!" Goku griped stubbornly. 

"Well I wouldn't have to if you learned a little table manners in the past nineteen years, you damn monkey!" Gojyo retorted hotly.

"One more word, and I'll shoot you both in the face." Came the priest's snarled warning.

"C'mon guys, settle down." Hakkai said placidly, holding up his hands for quiet in hopes of defusing the tension before adding,

"So Sanzo, did they give you much trouble?"

"About the usual amount of red tape that can be expected." The priest replied, leaning forward slightly to fish the crushed pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. After lighting up and taking a deep drag he proceeded to debrief his companions on what had come to pass. He recounted Rinpoche Saang's reluctance to admit him as a result of being met previously with two sets of imposters. 

"We should be sending out infringement notices at this stage!" Gojyo remarked. 

"I'd say cease and desist letters would be more appropriate," Hakkai added. 

"I just can't believe we have copy-cats this far out in the sticks." Said Goku brightly, leaning across the table to pilfer another stem of red grapes from the fruit platter the men had been picking at.

"Infamy has its definite drawbacks." Sanzo added evenly as he exhaled a plume of smoke into the air from the corner of his lips. 

"How did you finally convince them that you were the real deal?" Asked Hakkai, taking another piece of flat bread from the plate Gojyo offered. 

The priest smirked, quirking his brow and fixing his companion with an unwavering stare before answering,

"I told you, I'm good at being persuasive." 

He didn't mention the photograph of his Master. The wave of pressure that rose under his heart, making it feel as though the organ was being pulled through his throat at seeing that face. Instead he took his tea cup, glancing down at the steaming green liquid, breathing in its fragrance before taking the first sip. Hoping that the drinking the tea would somehow dislodge the lump in the back of his throat.

He changed gears. 

"What about you guys? They give you much trouble with the woman?" He asked quietly.

"They certainly weren't too keen at first." Gojyo responded, sitting back to readjust his hair in the pony tail he'd been wearing to keep the locks from his face. 

"I got the impression they didn't believe me when I gave them our names. Even so, their doctor was decisive enough to ask me a heap of questions before they took the woman away on a pallet. Now I understand why they appeared so suspicious." Hakkai added sagely.

There was quiet around the table a moment as Sanzo fell into silent contemplation. 

Counting exits. 

Sound of bird-song in the distance. 

Clatter of plates and cutlery as his companions ate. 

Goku was the first to notice. He always was a perceptive child. 

"Are you okay, Sanzo?" He asked quietly.

The monk met the boy's questioning eyes with a stillness that did not precipitate the depth of his emotions. 

"What do you make of them?" He reciprocated instead, inclining his head slightly to indicate the monks they had met thus far. Goku thought for a moment, his long, calloused fingers caressing the fading warmth of his tea cup before answering,

"Well, they seem nice enough. They didn't mess around when they saw how badly that lady was injured. The food is delicious!" 

Sanzo sighed impatiently. A cue that he was getting agitated with this prattle. Maybe his exhausted mind was projecting imagined fears. 

"I got the feeling that some of the guys might even be warriors." Goku continued.

At this, Sanzo sat up a little straighter. 

"At least that's what I thought when I saw the two monks that came down with the doctor. They looked pretty ripped." Goku added, recalling the muscular arms of the men in sleeveless orange robes who helped load the wounded woman onto the pallet before they carried her away. 

Sanzo smirked, bringing the cigarette to his lips and drawing back deeply.

 _'Perceptive monkey.'_ Sang his thoughts.

"There are many monastic orders that take on martial arts as part of their spiritual training." Hakkai explained. 

"And whilst most Buddhist monks live their lives in meditation and quiet study, there are often stories of those that lead philanthropic endeavours or organize themselves as independent militias for communities in need."

"Just like our Priest Sanzo here, on a holy mission to kick ass for the Gods." Gojyo added with a wink and easy laugh as he knocked back the last of his tea and sighed in contentment. 

"Although if you ask me, a monastic life in a palace being waited on hand and foot would be a great deal sweeter if they had some cute girls to balance out all the beefy baldies." 

This drew a laugh from Hakkai who added,

"Somehow Gojyo, I think the only ladies you're going to see within these walls will be about seven feet tall and made of solid stone."

"You're such a pervy water sprite! All you ever think about is chasing skirts..." Goku teased.

At this point however, Sanzo's thoughts had drifted away from the conversation at hand. Receded into his own mind.

 _'So they noticed it too.'_ He mused internally. 

There was something about the way the monks moved that gave Sanzo the vivid impression that these men were trained likely since birth to hold their own in open combat. He'd noticed it first as Rinpoche Saang stood at attention with his apprentices in tow. Then his suspicions were further confirmed by the way the boys that had served them moved across the room on silent footfalls. This temple was not a house for diffident old farts to spend their days chanting tired sutras. These men were battle ready. And with the extent of the calamity that had befallen all of Shangri-La, Sanzo was convinced it wouldn't be long before this particular brotherhood was called to arms.

"...zo? Sanzo? Hello? Saaanzo?!" Goku's voice brought him back to the present.

"Yeah. Sorry. I must have spaced out for a minute." He took a final quick drag of the cigarette that had almost burned its self out in his fingers, before crushing the butt into his untouched plate. 

"I was asking if we could stay here for the night since they're takin' care of the lady and giving us a room?" 

"Rooms, monkey, _rooms_ , plural." Gojyo corrected, pleased by the concept of having a little personal space amidst continuous travel with three other men. 

The duteous spirit that reigned within the priest sought to numb out the ache in his ribcage and the exhaustion that weighed his shoulders. To push both himself and his companions onward because it was what they were tasked to do. 

But the truth was Genjo Sanzo was tired. 

Not just the physical fatigue that was felt at the end of arduous labour; but more a deep, resonant enervation that both clouded his judgment and compromised his reason. 

It had been a difficult year for each of them. For all the fleeting moments of laughter and good cheer they shared, were a thousand bitter trials that had steadily ground them down to the marrow. 

They all walked a little heavier now. Their eyes had all lost just a fraction more of that spirit that they fought so hard to preserve. 

And then he thought of that fountain of the Goddess. The lotus flower in her hand. Her stone eyes, all-seeing and yet, so completely blind to the world around her.

He rose to his feet slowly. Serpentine, yet lithe. 

"We'll stay on until we can petition the monks to give us a better lay of the land. I suspect they have access to updated maps as well as provisions we can use for our journey. But I'm warning you now; our responsibility to that woman ended the moment we handed her over to their care. Whatever happens next is none of our concern. You'd be fools to get attached."

In his mind's eye the vision of Goku holding her hand flittered past. 

The ache in his chest throbbed bitterly. A poignant reminder that he couldn't stand hearing the boy cry. 

It just made suppressing his own tears that much harder. 

"Hey monk, you said we'd take her into the next town! You're not back-pedalling your way out of that one." Gojyo retorted hotly. 

"We're not a taxi service." Sanzo shot back. "And if she can walk herself to take a piss, then she'll manage herself out of whatever drama she ran herself into in the first place."

With that the priest turned away. He wasn't interested in hearing Hakkai's empathetic rationale or Gojyo's raw-hearted appeals. Again, it was Goku's voice that stopped him in his tracks.

"Weren't you listening to me, Sanzo? When I told you on the road that she was crawling from something?" 

It wasn't so much the way he phrased the questions, as it was the manner in which he asked them. Quiet, smouldering resolve. And something else. Something that struck him almost like a blow to the face.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it. But that tone set his teeth on edge. 

A sharp knock at the tea room door interrupted his train of thought. 

"Lord Sanzo... Masters." Their discussion paused as another young monk admitted himself through the threshold. This one in his early teens wore coffee coloured robes identical to those worn by the men at Saang's side. He bowed reverently with his hands clasped in prayer pose. A string of auburn coloured mala beads wrapped around his left wrist, glinted as they caught the light of the sun through the open windows. 

"I am called Gurrtan. It is Master Saang's wish and my deep honour to be appointed as your servant for the duration of your stay." The young man straightened, standing tall and proud, at attention. His hands held in closed fists squared off behind his lower back. Feet planted firmly a shoulder width apart. He was courteous, but the enunciation of his words and the rigidness of his stance confirmed his militant training. 

Other monks that had served Sanzo's party in the past had fawned and simpered over the holy man and his companions, all but falling over themselves in hopes of merely basking in their presence or being afforded the opportunity to touch the priest's robe. 

This young monk, on the other hand, was as far from starry-eyed and overwhelmed as could possibly be imagined. 

"I have personally prepared the finest rooms the Nagnika tower has to offer, overlooking the meditation gardens and practice quadrangle below." Said Gurrtan without preamble. "If you have taken your fill of refreshments, I should like to give you a tour of the tower's amenities so you may be comfortable in your surroundings." 

_'All business.'_ Sanzo thought to himself. 

"Lead the way." Was his reply. 

Behind him, he heard the rustle of fabric and footfalls as the three men rose from their seats and fell into line at his side. 

The edge in Goku's earlier tone still left a sting the priest was unable to withdraw from. At least for now he could lock it away in the recesses of his sparking mind and bury it deep under the folds of all the other things that cut and tore into him.

The fall of dusk over the mountain range was welcomed with the chime of the evening bell.

It’s deep, ponderous resonance sounded ethereally across the palatial temple grounds. 

After a brief tour of the tower’s expansive quarters, Gurrtan took each of the men to their respective rooms, positioned next to each other down a wide corridor on the third floor which overlooked the magnificent gardens and training grounds he had promised. Every room was beautifully furnished in dark, polished timbers with clean and comfortable beds. The walls hung with hand-woven tapestries that recited the many trials of Buddha.

The men were stoked, for though the day was blisteringly hot, the position of the tower kept the rooms considerably cooler than they expected. 

Sanzo, however, was lead to a room at the end of the great hall that was considerably more lavish, reserved for their more affluent guests. 

Its centre was dominated by a large timber bed carved in the likeness of great, snake-like dragons holding polished spheres of lapis lazuli in their amphibious claws. The windows were high and arching, welcoming the wash of orange light and cooling breezes that sent the flames within the wall sconces flickering.

The scent of jasmine and lilac perfumed the air. 

Brother Gurrtan, briefed to be mindful of the Sanzo priest’s turbulent temper, was careful of the way he phrased the invitation.

“Lord Sanzo, we can appreciate your exhaustion under the heat and stress. Master Saang would like to know if you will join us for evening puja so as he might introduce you and your party to the brotherhood?”

Caught between his duties and his better judgment, Sanzo politely declined.

“Give Master Saang my compliments and apologies; we’re all worn down and would present an unwanted distraction from your evening rituals. We should like to keep to ourselves and leave as quietly as we have come. I don’t plan on exhausting your hospitality for very long.” 

There was a quiet satisfaction that broiled within him wanting to arrogantly point out that Saang had expressed the un-ordained would not be permitted within the temple proper. 

_‘Wouldn’t it shatter their stupid glass house if they knew the truth?_ ’ He thought to himself bitterly. 

“My Lord and his companions are infinitely welcome within the safety of our walls for as long as it pleases you to grace us with your presence.” Came the young monk’s reply. 

“I’ll see that dinner is brought to the tea room so as you may have your solitude.” 

Thanking him, Sanzo watched the door to his quarters close before allowing himself to sink atop the bed, truly exhausted. His hand on his face, he laughed through his fingers as he thought to himself,

_‘This mission is going to kill me.’_

A short while later, Hakkai knocked at his door quietly. He’d brought Sanzo’s backpack with his few belongings. 

“Has the doctor come to visit you yet?” He asked, setting the bag down at the foot of the bed. If the grandeur of the room impressed him, he made no mention of it.

“No, not yet. You?” Sanzo replied, unzipping the bag’s many pockets until he found his toiletries case. What he wanted right now was a shower and shave. A few hours to be left alone from the constant bombardment of subtle energies that radiated off his demon companions. He’d grown accustomed to pushing them into the background, but he’d be damned if it wasn’t exhausting.

“Us neither.” Hakkai answered, “Then again, it’s to be expected considering how we found her.”

“We’ll probably get a report around dinner. For now, I just wanna be left alone a few hours. Shower and sleep.” The priest replied tiredly as he unbuckled the pistol holster from his waist and tossed it on the bed. He’d need to dismantle the weapon soon and give it a complete service.

“Just, do me a favour and keep the others in line whilst I check out.” 

Hakkai smiled that warm, easy smile that had a way of lighting up a room as he replied,

“C’mon Sanzo, don’t I always?”

He left as quietly as he came, shutting the door behind him with barely a sound so as to not interrupt the deep silence of the tower. Sanzo was onto something. A shower and nap before dinner didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

There were of course a list of chores that needed their attention. He’d have to take inventory of their supplies. Sanzo had asked for newer maps and Hakuryuu needed to be fed and brought inside out of the elements to rest. 

As much as their push Westward was of great importance, Hakkai was grateful of the rare hours they were afforded in safe havens such as these where they could all take a breather unmolested. His keen preternatural senses did not trigger to any demonic auras or malicious intent coming from the monks nor their surrounds. If anything, the tower radiated a kind of slumbering peace that was ingrained in the very stones. Their rooms were comfortable, clean and quiet. And whilst he doubted the monks would serve them any alcohol with their undoubtedly vegetarian dinner, he was certain getting a good night’s rest would significantly improve his outlook. He was just sorry that they were brought to this temple under such dire circumstances. 

That poor woman, whoever she was, would have a chilling story to tell when she regained consciousness.

He hoped their doctor was as skilled a field medic as he claimed when Hakkai had listed all he found wrong with her. Emaciated and abused as she was, his greatest concern was that in the morning, they’d be told she’d passed away during the night.

For now, he’d check in on his friends and suggest they lay low and quiet before Sanzo forced them back onto the open road.

The moon rose in her first quarter and with it came the sudden drop in temperature that was so characteristic of mountain weather. A crisp breeze elongated its icy fingers, caressing the heat of the day and dragging it down into to a sharp, welcome chill. 

The sounds of the monks leaving the quadrangle after their Tai Chi lessons were amongst the only source of noise that disturbed the silence of the temple grounds. 

Somewhere in the main wing, chanting could be heard. Low and pulsing, blooming forth like the ebb and flow of the ocean waves. 

Evening puja had ended and the dinner hour had begun seeing the communal dining and common rooms filled with laughter and chattering as the monks were permitted free time to unwind after their many duties. 

Without complaint, Goku and Gojyo assisted Hakkai in tending their chores before returning to the tower to bathe and sleep a few blessed hours. 

Each of the men were woken sometime later by the sound of Gurrtan’s gentle knocking. As promised, he’d come to invite them to eat in the peace and solitude of the tea room where he had a considerable feast of freshly prepared dishes laid out on hand-painted platters.

Goku’s wide-eyed gratitude was slightly deflated when he learned that the meal was composed of purely vegetarian ingredients. 

Whilst his pallet had adapted to devour practically anything that was given to him, his personal love of protein-rich meats had always been at the forefront of his meal choices. 

Hakkai shot the young man a warning glare as they were seated.

 _‘Mind your manners.’_ Said those sharp green eyes. 

His disappointment swallowed, Goku sniffed the delicious scents of jasmine rice and rich spices that wafted from the table. He’d learned in good order that irritating Hakkai was a considerably bad idea. The quiet-spoken, gentle young man with the easy smile barely ever raised his voice or hands to strike him. A stark contrast to Sanzo whose tolerance was paper-thin and would burst out into a concussive series of angry admonishments or stinging beatings with that hateful paper fan. 

In retrospect, Hakkai’s displeasure was subjectively worse. Felt in a wave of disappointment that quickly brought him into line. Too many times now had Goku witnessed Hakkai’s flaring temper in the heat of battle. That was chilling enough. Seconded only by his demon form, free of his power limiters – Well, Goku was just pleased that Hakkai was fighting beside him as a friend rather than against him as a foe.

“This looks awesome! Thank you, Gurrtan!” Goku exclaimed. He’d already spotted platters of fried noodles, grilled wild mushrooms and curried potatoes that he could not wait to devour.

“You’re more than welcome, Master Goku,” came Gurrtan’s reply. “Please, eat as much as you desire. There is no shortage of food as we tend our own produce.”

“I will! Thank you!” Goku responded, wide-eyed in awe. He’d never been addressed as ‘Master’ before. It was humbling, giving him room for pause. Beside him, Gojyo interrupted his admiration by snorting the word, “Master,” under his breath. 

“Master of eating and little else!”

“Where’s Sanzo?” Hakkai questioned, disrupting his companions before they could embarrass him at table. 

“Lord Sanzo will be with you presently,” Gurrtan answered. “He was resting when I called upon him. I’m sure you will all sleep better with full stomachs.”

No sooner than he spoke, did one of the young serving boys hold open the tea room door and announce clearly,

“Lord Genjo Sanzo.”

The man that came through the threshold quieted his companions into a wordless silence.

Genjo Sanzo strutted forward garbed in a regal monastic robe dyed as black as pure onyx. On this night he chose to wear the flowing sleeved garment partially open at the neck, revealing the pale skin of his stark collarbones in sharp relief against the ebon linen. Coupled with the freshly washed layers of his gold-blonde hair and piercing violet eyes, his presence vastly altered the tone of the room. The scent of musk infused soap and temple incense could be smelt from his skin. 

The illustrious party reunited, Gurrtan took his cue to again gather the boys at his side and leave his guests to their privacy with the sincere wish that they enjoy their meal.

The priest nodded his thanks before wordlessly taking his seat at the table. The thorns of hunger beginning to bite at his gut. He picked up his rice bowl and chopsticks… and paused.

“What are you idiots gawking at?”

“Woah…Sanzo… You look… _different_.” Goku began, barely above a whisper. 

“Never thought I’d see you in black, man.” Gojyo added, helping himself to a plate of fried tofu. Across the table, Hakkai had the good grace to hold his tongue as he passed Goku a tureen of aromatic curry. 

The priest knew damn well what his companions were getting at. He thought it himself as he pulled the robe from the bottom of his backpack. Only he convinced himself that they were wrong. He was nothing like that maggot and never would be regardless of how much black he wore. 

The sorrowful sound of dark wings against a fading sky. 

The shock and resonance of the Muten sutra drowning all into a void of oblivion. 

The blood he’d shed to stay alive that day would stain the very fabric of his soul forever. But his suffering was negatable compared to the suffering of his companions. 

One day he’d meet Ukoku again. 

One day, he’d drown that creature with his own nihility. Death would be a merciful release of which he would never taste.

“Tsk.” The priest clicked his tongue irritably as he helped himself to a platter of steamed greens. 

“The colour of my clothes is irrelevant.” He began quietly. The gravel in his voice soothing. In spite of himself he added, “It’s all that was left, when I gave what I had to someone that needed it more.” 

Black to him would not be a mirror for darkness. 

Genjo Sanzo proceeded to eat. Around the table, his companions followed from his cue and resumed their meal with exuberant gratitude. For deep in their hearts, they knew he was right. His white robe had always been a symbol of his inheritance. Tonight, his black robe was a symbol of his humility.

Some two hours later when the empty dishes had been cleared away and the table had been reset with fruits, tea and coffee for dessert, a knock had come to the tea room door. 

“Doctor Amir Prahkani.” Announced the young monk that stood guard outside. The doctor was shown within. 

He was a slender, handsome man in his late forties with bronze coloured skin and long jet back hair, set off by startling honey-hued eyes. In contrast to the other monks they had met thus far, the doctor wore navy blue Western-style medical scrubs. A gold nurse’s watch was pinned to his breast pocket and a modern silver stethoscope draped about his neck. He held a folded newspaper under his left arm.

“Lord Sanzo… Masters.” He began reverently, clasping his hands into prayer pose by way of greeting.

“I apologize for interrupting you at the tail end of dinner. May I take a seat with you a minute?”

“Please,” Sanzo replied, moving his ottoman aside to allow the doctor room at their table. Without preamble, Amir took hold of a decorative chair by the door, brought it with him across the room and seated himself with a sigh beside the high priest.

“So, let’s talk a little about our patient.” He began gently. His voice soft and rhythmic. 

“Is she going to be okay?” Goku asked first, leaning forward upon his seat. His interest in the melon he was gobbling through was quickly replaced by a wave of anxiety he’d been attempting to suppress since the woman was carried away. All he wanted more than anything in that moment was to learn her name.

The doctor smiled warmly. 

“The short answer is: yes. Given time and correct treatment I have no doubt in my mind that she’s going to be okay.” 

Both Goku and Gojyo exchanged relieved glances that Sanzo and Hakkai did not share.

“Now give us the bad news.” The priest asked plainly. For he knew all too well that there was more to the doctor’s concise response. 

Amir’s brows furrowed in consternation. His bedside manner would inarguably be tested. He laid the newspaper he was carrying across his lap and continued.

“It’s not entirely bad news, per se. But, there are some considerations that need to be taken into account.” 

“We’re listening.” Replied Hakkai quietly. The doctor nodded and continued gently.

“So, right now, the lady is currently being fed by intravenous drip to manage her severe malnourishment. She’s suffering from dehydration and infection as a result of bearing untreated opened wounds that were exposed to the elements, soil and insects for what appears to be a few days at least. I’ve started her on an additional drip dosed with painkillers and antibiotics to help stabilize her immune system.” 

The table was quiet as each of the men took the information in stride. The doctor continued.

“Master Hakkai did well to administer an analgesic to manage her pain. Without access to x-ray equipment or other diagnostic tools, I’ve had to use some basic methods to assess her overall condition. That said, she’s sporting compound fractures to four of her ribs, both collar bones and her left hip. There’s evident tissue damage to her throat, wrists and ankles. Multiple lacerations to her face, hands, arms, knees and feet. At least two points of concussion on her skull caused by blunt trauma that we’ve stitched along with the severe laceration spanning a considerable length of her torso.” The doctor took a deep breath, paused a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing.

“Again, Master Hakkai’s powerful Qigong techniques alleviated much of the inflammation and internal bleeding caused by her mishandling. I’ve had my nurse process an internal assessment for forced sexual intercourse,” 

At this Gojyo stiffened. His crimson eyes darkening dangerously. 

“What did you find?” The question shot out with more force than he perhaps intended.

“Negative.” The doctor responded quietly. His features filled with delicate compassion. 

“Wait, what does that mean?” Goku asked, glancing amongst his companions and their concerned expressions with confusion. The doctor was using words and phrases that spanned beyond his comprehension. He hated being unable to follow on.

“It means the nurse found no sign that she was taken against her will, Master Goku.” The doctor replied as gently as he dared. Offering an apologetic smile, he continued, “She wasn’t raped, in other words.”

“Oh!” Goku exclaimed, his gold eyes growing wide as the jarring depth of the knowledge began to sink in. He bowed his head, his shoulders slumping forward. Suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of being very small. 

“That’s something at least.” He heard Gojyo murmur beside him. The doctor nodded in agreement before continuing.

“There’s also symptoms of a subconjunctival haemorrhage in her right eye.” He instantly acknowledged his mistake and defined the prognosis in simpler terms.

“That’s just to say, a few tiny blood vessels have burst in her eye. The white is currently filled with blood. It’s alarming but generally superficial. Again, without the right equipment on hand, it’s difficult to tell if she’s sustained any serious damage to her eye-sight.” 

At last, the doctor grew quiet here. His damage report complete. He wanted very much to end this conversation on a positive note, but could not knowingly find one with which to comfort the four men.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. Were in not for your good timing, I doubt she would have survived much longer. Injuries like these, in my experience, are collusive of severe combat damage. Only, in this instance, it doesn’t appear as though the fight was in her favour.”

Goku nodded to himself, raising his head to look up at the doctor.

“It looked like… it took everythin’ she had, just to get to the road. She must have been so hurt and alone.” 

The doctor bowed his head ‘yes’. Years of medical practice in the forefront of war camps had somewhat desensitized him from the suffering of others. Even so, when he took to pause and allow the weight of his work settle only to see his patients for what they truly were - He felt their suffering with great and powerful empathy. One that lead him to drink late at night, if just for a few hours to blur the memories into a sepia haze. To shut out the ghosts that he felt watching his back. Their clammy hands on his sleeves as he shut their eyes. Another soul slipped free from its mortal coil.

“It certainly appears that way. But, that being said, she’s strong-willed and fairly young. That’s half the battle won. The rest, time and treatment will heal. Ideally, I’d like to make arrangements for a patient transport truck to take her down the mountain where she can be hospitalized. Unfortunately, that request in its self poses some unwanted complications.” The doctor offered quietly.

Sanzo, who had been listening to the conversation in rapped attention finally stirred from his seat.

"What kind of complications are we talking about here?" He asked finally. His sharp eyes and discerning intuition had been waiting for the penny to drop with an unwavering intensity. The doctor sighed unevenly and finally proffered the newspaper he'd had resting on his lap the entire time.

The priest hesitated a moment. Looking from the paper to the doctor's face and back again a moment before finally reaching within his robe pocket and extracting his thin, rectangular framed reading glasses. He shook out the arms, set them against the bridge of his nose and leaned forward slightly relieving the newspaper of the doctor's grasp.

The front page proclaimed a grim headline.

**'BUDDHIST ORDER INCINERATED'**

Beneath these damning words a black and white photograph of eleven dark-robed, nuns of various ages stood smiling before an outdoor shrine draped in prayer flags that hung suspended in the wind. Their clear eyes and radiant smiles illuminated their gentle beauty.

_'Shambala was rocked late yesterday afternoon when plumes of black smoke could be seen rising from the Lobsang Valley Temple. Emergency services responded quickly to find the ancient site a raging inferno. Tactical response crews fought for over three hours to bring the blaze under control. Local rescue and police teams surrounded and secured the area in a frantic search for the eleven Buddhist nuns that served the community as temple guardians and educators, only to be stricken in horror as the remains of nine women were uncovered in various states of dismemberment from beneath the wreckage. Extraction crews continue to search for the bodies of Honourable Ladies Junta Saetang and Kaiya Takahani whose remains have not yet been discovered. Authorities have launched a full-scale investigation into the tragedy citing the perpetrators responsible as murderous insurgents possibility associated with the Imperial Dimaga demon court.'_

He'd read enough.

The eyes of those women looked back at him with a different gaze. Suddenly their smiles were not so serene. Sanzo handed the paper to Hakkai and slowly removed his reading glasses. His companions shuffled around the table to get a better view of the article and read the print in silence.

"Which one is she?" He asked after a string of heavy moments. The doctor, however, shook his head.

"I don't know." He replied simply. His brows furrowed heavily. He whispered. "The swelling... and bruising on her face makes identifying her almost impossible at this stage. She's in her early to mid-thirties at best, Caucasian perhaps, it's hard to say but if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not know and move her as discreetly as possible. Because if I know anything about what's going on in Shambala right now - then I can assure you, the burning of Lobsang was no accident. It was an execution... the court was sending a message."

Sanzo ground his teeth, his body inadvertently responding to the revelation in spite of himself. Beside him, the three men tensed and began to mutter amongst themselves. Gojyo’s admirable features pulled down into a grim scowl that Hakkai mirrored whilst Goku flattened the newspaper against the table, rubbing his fingers over the crease in the photograph and focusing his attention on the faces that smiled up at him.

“What would a court of demons want with a group of nuns in the middle of nowhere?” The monk pressed, his hands absently flowing through the motions of removing a cigarette from his pack, bringing it to his lips, firing the lighter and inhaling sharply. All the while, his eyes watched the doctor with piercing intensity.

Amir rubbed his hands across his knees, leaning forward slightly as he spoke.

“I don’t know.” He repeated. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” Hakkai retorted. He sensed the doctor’s tension; the shift in his eyes and responded with the precision of a striking viper.

“If demons of high blood are executing devout orders to send the public a message, then it stands to reason that the attack was not a random act of insurgent violence. We’ve seen enough in our travels to know that the demons are converging toward a greater purpose and any who would stand against them are likely to be devoured if they don’t submit.”

“You think the authorities are going to hand the woman over to the demons. That’s why you’re hesitating to send her down to the city.” Sanzo added concisely.

“I’ve just spent six continuous hours stitching her back together,” The doctor replied, “I’ll be damned if I’m going to deliver her into the hands of her abusers. Her sisters are dead, it would have been _merciful_ if she would have joined them, but that’s not the cards fate have dealt. So I’m proposing a different approach. One that says this unfortunate creature gives up this life in search of another. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never seen her, just as I’ve never seen you and this conversation didn’t happen.”

Amir rose to his feet and stepped around his chair, pausing to readjust the stethoscope around his neck.

“Gentlemen, the Dimaga have ruled the people of Shambala for over three hundred years. They are not accustomed to insurrection. The changes that have overcome demon-kind are the dawn of a reckoning long in the making. Some of us may not be willing to die for a revolution, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t capable of becoming benefactors to the change. When it comes, we will be prepared, with or without you, Priest Sanzo. Now, that paper was published three days ago. You can be sure the Diamga will be sending enforcers through the city to finish what they started. They won't hesitate to systematically tear town and village apart until they get it. They'll likely be at our door inside of forty-eight hours, less if they’re travelling by dragon. Patient transports are privately owned and the walls have just as many ears as they do eyes. But tourists, we have many. So with all due respect Masters, I suggest you keep your visit brief and take your _traveller_ with you… while you still can.”

With that Amir inclined his head reverently and made for the door.

“Wait! When can we see her?!” Goku exclaimed, rising to his feet abruptly.

“Tomorrow, after dinner. I’ll send for you. Goodnight, Masters.” The doctor replied as he quit the tearoom shutting the door behind him and leaving the four men to digest the course of information they had been given. 

“This is bullshit!” Gojyo exclaimed angrily, rising from the table and stalking away.

“It’s also not our problem.” Sanzo returned evenly.

“No! Don’t you fucking start with me, man! Demons are ripping through cities decimating defenceless orders and you just want to walk away and pretend none of this ever happened?”

“Gojyo, please,” Hakkai pleaded.

“Cool off, hothead. You’re jumping the gun. Again.” Sanzo shot back, fixing the redhead with a withering glare.

“We’re going to walk away because we have to. The last thing we need on our hands right now is a fugitive manhunt and a whole city brought low because we get careless.”

This seemed to bring Gojyo’s temper under control. He stopped his fretful pacing and re-joined the table, seating himself heavily in the doctor’s vacant chair. Something about the look in the priest’s eyes, the contemplative tone in his voice. He’d seen it so many times before. Sanzo was thinking, planning moves several paces ahead.

“Have a smoke….and calm the hell down.” The priest ordered, sliding his pack of cigarettes across the table that Gojyo caught reflexively under long, calloused fingers. Silence between them as Gojyo brought a cigarette to his lips and fumbled with his lighter a moment.

Sanzo continued in barely a whisper. He could feel the presence of the monk outside their door and was willing to bet money that the tower had been locked after nightfall, trapping them and the other monks that served inside.

“They’re all in on it. That doctor knows more than he’s letting on. These monks are warriors and the woman…I’m willing to bet she’s a loose end this court of demons are just gagging to tie off.”

"I'm beginning to get the impression this nun must have seriously pissed off the wrong group of people to have her entire order butchered and burned." Hakkai added. He'd been sitting silently throughout the course of the conversation, absorbing the nuances of the room in quiet contemplation.

“Everything we’ve fought until now has been minions and cannon fodder. The low order masses that riot in the streets. The pattern remains the same. The demons rise, attack then leave. Not as a single unified army but as guerrilla groups that even Kougaiji can’t completely control. If what the doc said is true, then this is as close to a commanding force of demonic nobility we’ve come since this little uprising set us westward. We may be afforded a chance to learn more about the source of this twisted rebellion _if_ we play our cards right."

Exasperated, Goku dropped back down into his seat. His filling meal churning angrily within the pit of his belly.

"I don't understand, Sanzo! What are you saying?" The boy pleaded uneasily.

"What I'm saying, monkey, is that tomorrow, we're going to pay the throttled nun a little visit and ask her a few questions about this imperial order before the doc's warning comes good."

"And... Are we still gonna help her escape 'em, like the doc said?"

"That's going to depend entirely on her." Sanzo answered, rising to his feet.

"I suggest everyone gets some sleep. We have a busy day ahead."

The three men watched as the black-robed priest rose from his ottoman leaving a partially filled ashtray and an empty teacup behind. Despite the luxury of the rooms afforded to them in the tower's safety, he doubted any of them would be getting very much sleep that night.

Yet another unfortunate side effect of their infamy. All four men had learned in the past year the meaning of sleeping with one eye opened.

The doctor's warning would haunt them well into the small still hours of the night.

_**To Be Continued...** _


End file.
